


the most painful is when you heal

by Twilys



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Birthday Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Matchmaker!Hilda, Minors spoilers, Oblivious Lysithea, Panic Attacks, Unknown Crush, for Lysithea's backstory, past trauma, she means well but she kinda triggers Lysithea's existantial dread, what is the new and warm feeling when I look at you? definitely friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:07:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26526460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twilys/pseuds/Twilys
Summary: Hilda drags Lysithea to a birthday tea party, and everything is fine until a certain someone walks by.a.k.a.Lysithea is a Victorian novel heroine thinking she's going to die (spoiler: it's only a crush).
Relationships: Cyril/Lysithea von Ordelia
Comments: 8
Kudos: 33





	the most painful is when you heal

It all started with the ache in her stomach. 

Today was the 28th of the Pegasus Moon: her birthday. For once, Lysithea had agreed to be dragged from the library, her heavy magic theory tomes tucked away for the day. To be quite exact, she had not been given a choice; there was no way Hilda was going to let her spend her “special day” working. Sixteen was a very important birthday, according to her, and even she was willing to put in a little effort if it meant Lysithea got to take the day off. Turns out the pink-haired girl could outdo her in stubbornness... when it came to her matters of importance. Or perhaps it was the young mage herself that had grown too soft, after spending almost a year at the Academy. 

Was it wrong? These days, Lysithea found herself longing for a break. It felt wrong to daydream about resting, and yet… She was finding it harder to focus lately. Had she pushed herself too far? This year definitely hadn’t been an idle one. The young mage had diligently put herself under an intense studying schedule, on top of her curriculum. She had survived every mission their class was assigned to, and had never missed a class nor a chore. She had fought through each and every twist of events, endured the tensed atmosphere, and still passed her Warlock certification with flying colours. She certainly had every reason to deserve a break… hadn’t she? It was so tempting to lay back and act like she had all the time in the world... To enjoy baking sweets with Annette, teach Cyril how to read, or let Hilda teach her about makeup and fashion. Of course, it meant the return to reality was a harsh one… but some days, she allowed herself to be a regular sixteen-years-old girl, enjoying her time at the Academy with her friends. 

The young mage had first decided to drown in work the anxiety feelings her birthday inevitably brought. But Hilda’s proposal sounded much more alluring, so she had only resisted for the show. Not so reluctantly, she had therefore followed Hilda to the dining hall. The older girl had promised a cake and some apple-blend tea - “ _ Extra-sugary, just how you like it! _ ” - and that was something Lysithea simply could not refuse. She was not about to let a cake fly past her, especially today of all days. It was her birthday; she had every right to enjoy herself, and not think about the terrible implications of time continuing its march. She would not break down. Above all, she would not torment herself, thinking about how this year could be her last…

~~~~~~~~~~

On the way, she half-listened to Hilda complaining about the snow that still powdered the gazebos’ tables, preventing her from throwing the tea party outside. While it was true that the weather outside was cold, that was pretty usual during the Pegasus Moon. Lysithea was grateful for her uniform jacket and woollen tights. Hilda didn’t seem too bothered, even if her thighs were exposed to the wind. Then again, Goneril lands were farther north, so maybe she was accustomed to the cold. The young mage had also come to understand that Hilda didn’t really care about practicality in her outfit choices, rather focusing on aesthetics. It seems there was more to clothes than keeping warm, Lysithea discovered. She had never really thought about that before; maybe those fashion lessons were paying off, after all. She still would rather be warm than pretty, but she had to admit that Hilda’s efforts weren’t in vain. She could see how the boys turned to look back on her friend as they went through the reception hall. Based on the small smirk on the pink-haired girl’s lips, she was well aware and enjoying the attention.

They arrived at the dining hall and sat by the end of a table, kept warm by a nearby fire. A kitchen boy was waiting with an enormous cake, that immediately brought water to Lysithea's mouth. It was covered with whipped cream, chocolate shavings and… was it candied cherries? They were so rare this time of the year! Hilda profusely thanked the boy, who was turning redder with each wink and smile. It was hard not to feel sorry for him: he looked more and more like a fly in a honey trap, slowly realizing it was stuck. He must have finally seen through Hilda's sugar-coated words, because he took off soon after, almost running.

The cake was delicious. It was sugary, flavoury and soft, all the things a cake ought to be. Hilda let her friend eat most of the cake, and they chatted for a good hour. Lysithea would never cease to be amazed by Hilda's gossip: the girl knew everything that happened in the Academy. Courtesy of Dorothea perhaps, as the two girls did spend a lot of time together. It was actually nice to hear about the latest rumours: who was seen with who, Lorenz's latest fiasco or how Ingrid had again dealt with another of Sylvain's exes. Lysithea didn't understand how people chose to invest that much time and effort into something as fruitless as dating –she certainly wouldn’t– but Hilda had a way of telling each story like it was the most dramatic thing that ever happened, making it impossible to stay impassive. In turn, she spoke about the latest breakthrough in her studies and the last book she enjoyed ; and if Hilda wasn't interested, she at least had the politeness to nod and hum at appropriate times. 

~~~~~~~~~~

The clock chimed somewhere, and Lysithea was reminded of the time. It was usually around this hour that Cyril would come to the library, and she would teach him how to read and write. She had told him she wouldn't make it today, but still, it felt weird not seeing him for their daily study session. Maybe she could catch up with him later? He had told her he was going to help with cleaning. Would he be in the cathedral? The students’ dorms, maybe? The boy seemed to be working everywhere at once, and even she had trouble finding him. Her thoughts were interrupted by Hilda's cheers:

“Hey, it's Cyril over there!” Hilda waved and smiled at the boy, who waved tentatively back. She then turned back to Lysithea: “Honestly, I don't always get that boy. He can be so helpful and then so mean... we had stable duty together last week, and he said I was lazy! After I worked so hard! Can you believe it?”

“Of course I can, Hilda!” Lysithea chuckled. “The Professor assigned  _ you  _ to stable duty, not Cyril. But you coaxed him into helping you, right?”

“I only asked!” Hilda exclaimed, looking like the picture of innocence itself. “What’s wrong with asking? He could have denied, you know. And he didn't, so I did my part and thought it was fine. Until he said I was lazy! How rude is that?"

Typical Cyril... that was one thing she liked about him, his bluntness. He wasted no time with useless words; and he never treated her like a child. Mostly because they were about the same age… But it was nice to not have to prove her worth, for a change. And not have someone constantly fussing over her, like her parents did. She caught his eyes at this moment, and he smiled at her. Softly, and the warmth of it carried over the room, settling in her chest. The kind of smiles that were so rare on him. It was then that Lysithea felt the ache. A tightness in her belly, as if it was being emptied and rattled all at once; her pulse racing, heat creeping on her cheeks… What was happening? Lysithea quickly diverted her eyes.

“Are you alright, Lysie?” Hilda asked, concern on her face. And something else, too. It almost seemed like… greed. Like a cat eyeing one particularly tasty treat.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” she replied, forcing herself to sit up straight. She would not, would absolutely  _ not  _ squirm like a child in front of her friend. “And please don’t call me Lysie, you know how much I dislike it.”

“Yeah yeah, you told me… But never mind that, we have more important matters at hand!” Hilda clapped her hands, turning back to eye Cyril, now exiting the hall. “You,  _ miss _ , just flushed pret-ty hard. Something to do with Cyril?” And she gave her a wink.

“Cyril? No !” Lysithea replied, completely taken by surprise. “... why would he have anything to do with that?”

“Oh, I don’t know…” Hilda eyed her attentionally. “But you were fine until he got here.”

Lysithea stared at her, dumbfounded for once, her mind racing. She still felt out of it. Why was that? It couldn't be her period; she had had it last week, and she was fairly certain her body wasn't whacked enough to have so short a cycle. So what? It was not like her to get so worked up over one little comment… but still, she could not shake off the fear it was related to a more serious issue. Hilda was still staring right back, smiling. No, smirking– and occasionally glancing behind her back towards the door Cyril had taken. Her patience was short-lived however; the older girl soon shook her head slightly and sighed.

“Drop it. But really Lysie, are you okay? You’re a little pale now… more than usual, that is.”

“I… my stomach feels strange.” Lysithea said tentatively.

“Strange how?” Hilda pursued, leaning forwards.

“It’s…” Lysithea began, searching for the right words. “Like it emptied and twisted suddenly…” 

“Anything else? Heart beating too fast? Pulse going like crazy?” Hilda questioned, her eyes drilling holes in Lysithea's. It was rare to see her that focused.

“How...” The young mage couldn’t help but shrink a bit. Since when did Hilda have any interest in healing?

An icy feeling washed over her. Hilda was analysing her, describing symptoms. Symptoms of an illness. And she did spend quite a lot of time around Marianne... what if she had picked up some knowledge?

“How do you know?” Lysithea said, fainter than usual.

“Answer the questions, Lysie.”

“Stop calling- ... Yes to all that, and I’m feeling a bit hot, too. Do... do you have any idea what it is?”

“Oh trust me, I know!” Hilda nodded sagely. “It’s a very common sickness. ”

“Sickness?” Lysithea sputtered. 

She tried her best to quell the dread perking up its ugly head in her stomach, but it was no use. She thought she had more time! The healers had all agreed she could survive the year, and that was what had motivated her coming to the Academy in the first place. All heat disappeared. The fire could have died out for all she knew. Her throat felt tight; she looked at the piece of cake still on her fork, and wished she hadn't indulged so much on it before. The ache came back, more violently.

“Hey now, don’t make such a long face! It’s nothing to worry about.”

“I don’t feel too good…” Lysithea mumbled, setting her fork down. “I should go to the infirmary.”

“You're sure? … Yeah, you are. Sorry, you honestly look ghastly.” Hilda paused for a second. “Okay, here’s the plan: you'll go back to your room, and I’ll run to the infirmary. I’m sure Professor Manuela has something to help you with!”

“I can still go to the infirmary by myself-” Lysithea tried.

“Oh no, it’s better that way! You'll feel better after laying down for a bit. We’re friends, Lysie, it’s no trouble for me!” Hilda winked and smiled reassuringly to her, then stood up and motioned for her to stand as well. “On your way now. I’ll be super quick!”

“Okay...” Lysithea stood up, faltering as she did. “Perhaps you’re right.”

Now that she was up, she felt keenly how weak she was. Her knees were wobbling, and it took all her might to smile and wave Hilda away. The pink-haired girl strolled off to the upper floors, and Lysithea began her way back to her room. She wanted quiet. There were too many people in the hallways, talking and cheering and laughing, and it rang in her ears, bouncing in her skull like screams of pain in a different time.

~~~~~~~~~~

Finally, Lysithea reached her room. The girl let out a shaky breath, shutting the door behind her. She wanted nothing more than peace and quiet, but if what she felt was what she feared… how could that be possible? How much time had she left? How much time until she… 

A wave of pure terror flooded over her. It had threatened to overcome her ever since talking with Hilda, and she had struggled to contain it; but she was giving way. She tried to push it away, but it was no good. Fear was creeping in every inch of her body, coursing through her veins as if she had been injected a full vial of it. Breathing became a struggle. She was guzzling air at a frantic pace, her throat so tight she could hear hissing. Each heave of her chest brought more pain, until all she could feel was that ache in her torso, her limbs so numb they felt foreign. Maybe she collapsed at that moment; she wouldn’t know. All she knew was fear, insidious fear grasping her. She had been so close to death before… it only ever was a matter of time. And she, naively thinking years were still ahead, had wasted her last moments.

Suddenly, she heard a knock on the door. Some part of her brain, that was not completely overrun by panic, perked up. No one could see her like that: she couldn’t be sent away because of her fragile health. The panic clouding her mind lifted just enough to will herself silent, to still her shivers and shuddering breath. She wished with everything she had left that the person would just go away. In vain.

“Hey Lysithea, you in there?” A boy’s voice pierced through the fog in her mind. “Can I come in?”

Cyril. It was Cyril. He couldn’t see her like that! Lysithea hastily wiped the tears off her face, and moved to stand up. Foolish decision. She couldn’t even take a few steps before black spots clouded her vision, vertigo overcoming her. She felt herself falling and hit the floor. Next thing she knew, Cyril was crouching next to her, ready to support her. 

“Come on, I’ll help you.” he said, waiting for her to reach out.

“‘M fine... “ Lysithea ignored his hand and tried to push herself off the floor, with no success. She was trembling so hard it was difficult to remain stable.

“You’re not. Lemme help.” Cyril shook his head before sliding his arm under hers. “Here, I’ll pull you up.”

Cyril would not back down, she at least knew that. She relented, and with his help, managed to get on her feet. She was now standing, but her vision was still blurry. She would have collapsed immediately, if not for Cyril’s support. Some part of her brain - that wasn’t clogged in fog- noted how close he was now. How would it feel to lean into him, to let him carry her? 

“Whoa, stay with me!” Cyril caught her as she stumbled into him, his grasp firm yet gentle. He paused for a second, then cleared his throat and said “I’ll carry you to bed… that’s all right?”

“I s'pose...” Lysithea mumbled against his chest. The boy was warm and smelled of soap. It was nice. ... Uh oh. Incoherent thoughts meant her brain was affected!

“It’ll be quick. Hang on!”

Cyril placed his arms around her back and under the bend of her knees, then waited until she had laced her hands behind his neck. Lysithea tried not to yelp too loud as she was suddenly being lifted in the air. Cyril had the grace not to comment on it. She clung to him for the whole trip, even though they only had to cross her room. There was again that strange sensation in her belly, as if she had left it on the floor. Yuck. The image was unpleasant; but the sensation wasn’t. It was simply… new. She didn’t know what to make of it.

Before she could dwell any further on this, Cyril sat her down on the bed, arranging the pillows so she could lay back comfortably. He then moved away. It was cold now… Lysithea was shivering. She wished her friend was still carrying her. Curse her weak body! Her stupid, frail little body that wouldn’t let her live normally, making her vulnerable and helpless like a child, in front of Cy–

“Hilda said to give that to you… Said it’s from Professor Manuela.” Cyril’s voice said, sounding far, so far away.

She was spiralling again. Lysithea blinked and forced herself to focus on her surroundings. There was a pillow against her back. The blanket felt soft under her fingers; it was wrinkly and had a stain, from when she had spilled Albinean berry juice on her bed. The stain would not go away, no matter how hard she tried to remove it. She was breathing: deep and long breaths filling her lungs. The carpet was yellow, like all Golden Deer rooms. She was counting the patterns when she felt a hand touch her shoulder.

Startled, Lysithea whipped her head to her side and was met with Cyril’s face. He was close. She could see how his brows were furrowed, creases barring his forehead. This was different from his normal, resting, no nonsense, “don’t mess with me” face. He genuinely looked… worried? There was a softness in his eyes, one that wasn’t usually there. One she wished she saw more often. 

“D’you want this?” Cyril said softly, handing her a vial. “Hilda said it might help you.” 

“Hilda..?” Lysithea repeated, taking it with a shaky hand. It was small and contained a clear liquid.

“Yeah, I saw her in the hallway and she said you needed this. Said I was the best person for the job. Dunno what she meant by that.” Cyril shrugged. “But drink it, yeah? Can’t hurt you.”

Nodding slightly, Lysithea opened the vial and gulped down the medicine. A shudder went down her spine. Whatever had been in that vial was foul and awfully bitter. Despite a strong urge to grimace at such a horrid lack of sugar, the young mage kept a straight face. Tried, at least; she could see Cyril wasn’t fooled. The lines of worry were still on his face. 

Suddenly, Cyril pulled her into a hug. The young girl froze. It was like being carried in his arms again, and past the first moments of surprise, she felt herself relax against him. It was a bit awkward at first, the way they were seated; so Lysithea leaned back and turned to nuzzle her face against the crook of his neck. There, they were both comfortable. Hugging was a new thing for them, but she would be the last to complain. Cyril hesitantly began to stroke her hair, and she let him. She didn’t know why, but his presence was making it easier to stay grounded. She could hear his heartbeat: da-dum, da-dum, da-dum… With her eyes closed, she listened on. It was a bit quick, but the rhythmic sound finally lulled her senses, and her shaking gradually came to a stop. 

~~~~~~~~~~

She must have dozed off at some point. When she next opened her eyes, Lysithea was laying down on her bed, her blanket tucked with care around her. Stifling a yawn, she sat up and looked around her room. The first thing that shocked her was how tidy it was. The young mage was by no means a terribly messy person; but she did tend to overcrowd her desk with books and papers. When there was no place left, well… the floor was the next best option. So it was surprising to actually see the surface of her desk, and her books neatly tucked into her bookshelf. The second thing was how empty it was. Cyril was gone, nowhere to be seen. 

Rubbing the last shreds of sleepiness from her eyes, Lysithea stood up. She immediately ran a quick check-up of herself: no stomach ache, no fever, her dizziness was gone… clearly, Professor Manuela’s medicine had done the trick. She felt perfectly fine; and rested, for once. Maybe her last night-over studying had had a lot more effect on her than she had thought. She hadn’t  _ meant _ to stay up that late. She never did, but somehow she would always lose track of time, only looking up from her books when the candle flickered low, having melted entirely. She was deciding to be better at keeping a healthy sleep schedule when the door opened, letting Cyril in. 

"Hey, you're up!" he said brightly. "Feelin' better?"

"I'm… uh better, yeah." Lysithea mumbled to the wall behind him. "Thanks."

"You really scared me there. D'you get that often?"

Lysithea searched her words for a moment. She wasn't used to sharing that side of her… In fact, apart from her parents, nobody knew. She didn't want people’s pity, didn't need them coddling her like a child. But this was Cyril… it was different. Cyril knew her, knew how hard she worked and how resilient she was. Surely that wouldn't change his opinion of her, would it? 

"Not often. And it's usually not so bad. I just lost it for a while." Lysithea said carefully, now speaking to the floor. Why was she so unnerved? She forced herself to raise her head and look into his eyes: "Thanks for… being there. It helped."

"Sure thing!" Cyril answered, smiling to her. Had he been smiling before? Did she miss that? "Lemme know if ya need anything again." 

"I'm able to handle myself you know!" Lysithea snapped back, before softening. “But I guess you were right to fret, in this instance. So thanks again.”

She smiled at him, to assure him she was fine, and he smiled back. This again proved to be too much, although she didn’t know why. The fluttering feeling in her stomach was back. But it was nice this time, like a soft blanket on her heart. It was no sign of illness at all; she felt foolish for having mistook it as such. Now she knew it was simply the feeling of enjoying being cared for. It wasn’t unusual, right? Cyril was her friend, and that was what friends did for each other. Though that had never happened with say, Claude or Annette. Or her parents. So what was so special about Cyril?

"Oh, I almost forgot!" Cyril piped up, interrupting her and derailing her train of thoughts. "I have something for you…"

He reached for the sash on his hip. From there, he produced a small notebook and a little box. 

"I wanted to give them earlier, but you weren’t anywhere I looked. Then there was Hilda…" Cyril said, rubbing his neck. "Now I have you, so here. Happy birthday, Lysithea."

With a strange lump in her throat, Lysithea took the gifts. She set the box on her desk, turning her attention to the notebook. Opening it, she read:

_ ~RECIPE BOOK~ _

_ To Lysithea, from her friends _

Squealing in delight, Lysithea turned the pages to find her favourite sweets’ recipes carefully written down. She recognized Cyril’s careful handwriting, Annette’s neat little characters and even Mercedes’s flourished letters. The lump felt even more swollen, as her heart warmed at the thought of her friends making her such a sweet present –in all meanings. 

“D’you like it?” Cyril asked, voice quieter than usual. 

“You silly- of course I do!” Lysithea beamed at him. “You… I mean, this is- it’s wonderful!”

“I’m glad you think so,” he replied, a soft smile on his lips. “And that’s not all!”

He reached for the box on her desk and opened it, revealing diamond-shaped pastries inside. Lysithea felt her mouth water as the sweet, bewitching smell rose into the air. 

“They’re Almyran. I don’t remember much about Almyra, but I remember eating those. When there was celebrations and stuff." Cyril explained.

“Oh Cyril, it looks absolutely delicious! Let’s share them, shall we?”

~~~~~~~~~~

The pastries were, in fact, delicious. She picked her last one from the box, careful not to drop anything on her bed, which they were sitting on. She put it in her mouth, savouring the flavours. Thin layers of dough filled with an almond and pistachio paste, held together by honey… Lysithea was sure she would never find another pastry that would better satisfy her sweet tooth. She took the time to carefully lick the honey from her fingers, property be damned. She didn’t want to dirty her bed, after all. And she needed time to pick out her words. 

“Cyril, do you mind if I ask you something?” Lysithea said hesitantly, stealing a glance to her friend’s side.

“Sure.” The boy betrayed no sign of hesitation, as if she was going to ask about the weather, or his bow practice.

“You seemed to know what to do when… you know, earlier.” She couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy, and ashamed. “I don’t mean to pry but… how do you know?”

“Figured you would ask.” Cyril sighed, finishing his pastry. He stayed quiet for a moment, before saying: “My mom and dad were in the army. They died fighting. I was very young. After that, I just stayed around the camps, doing useful stuff. Like cleaning weapons, fetching supplies, bringing messages… fighting, too. And there were people who couldn’t take it. Mostly young. And they acted just like you did back there. So I helped them. At least, tried to.”

“Oh… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.” So he, too, had lost dear ones… How strange that they should share this point too. “I know it’s painful.”

“It’s fine.” Cyril shrugged, setting his gaze steadily in front of him. “I don’t really like talking about them though. It makes me angry.”

“Angry?” Lysithea turned to look at her friend. His brows were set in a firm line and his jaw was clenched. She put a hand on his arm, and he startled at the gesture, before giving her a brief smile. 

“Yeah. Against the ones who did that. And against the ones who didn’t do a thing.” Cyril let out a heavy exhale. “Who just let orphans pick up an axe and fight.”

He had put his hand over hers, his calloused fingers reminding her how soft and delicate hers were. She imagined his and hers had once been the same, before hardship had demanded he lost the softness of youth. She understood his anger now: Cyril surely knew more about war and suffering than most of the students in the Academy. 

“And you?” Cyril asked, gently pressing her hand. “T’s okay if you don’t wanna talk.”

What could she tell him? Could she reveal it all? Her parents, helpless as she was taken? Her world twisted, her childhood ripped? The mages, pale as death, performing horrible experiences, bearing smiles that were chilling to the bone? The pain in her veins, the captivity, the loneliness, the culpability of seeing another child go and think,  _ at least it’s not me _ ? Their fleeting memory, laughing faces and caring words paling into death, so faint she could barely recall them. How could she reveal how broken she was? Still she had to say something, anything. She was already too far in.

“I had siblings!” Lysithea blurted out, before looking down to their tangled hands for support. A semi-truth would do. “And friends, in our household. I don’t remember them much, it was long ago. But they all died… of illness. And I… I saw them, I was there.”

An arm draped over her shoulder, calming the shudders that had begun. Lysithea leaned into Cyril’s side, grateful for the warmth. She felt… protected. As if memories were kept at bay by her friend's embrace. She found the strength to carry on, whispering since they were so close:

"The healers, they said I was frail. That what had cost the lives of the other children was likely to come back to me. It didn't, though… yet."

“That’s why you said you might not be around for much?”

“Yes, and why I panicked earlier. Hilda said something about a disease… And with everything that’s going on, I lost it. I’m not ready yet. I’m… I’m scared.”

She felt herself being pulled closer, gathered in his arms. Cyril was gently rocking her, once more stroking her hair. She wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball and let her worries drown in his warmth –and nothing was preventing her from doing so. They stayed like this until the sunlight dimmed outside, and Cyril had to go finish his chores. 

After parting with one last hug, Lysithea closed the door. She took her new recipe book, and began her reading. As she looked upon the recipes and found her friend’s sweet little notes here and there, she truly felt her luck at getting so far in life. She felt grateful. Sure, her past hadn’t been the easiest one, and was still clawing at her. But she had found friends, dear ones, and was learning more every day. Her present was everything she had wished for; and in the end, that was all that mattered.

A little pain was bearable, after all. 

**Author's Note:**

> Title is taken from “La maladie d’amour”, sung by Michel Sardou. It’s about a little bug that bites us sometimes  
> Brownie points if anyone guessed that Lysithea’s birthday cake was a black forest and Cyril’s pastries were baklava! Please try both of them, they are to die for.
> 
> I’d love to hear your thoughts, please comment!


End file.
